


Miss Scarlet: In the Foyer; With a Leash

by AppleCherry108



Series: Cats and Dogs [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pet Owners, Awkward Flirting, Cliche, Cute, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, No fictional animals were harmed - only scared, Scheming Animals, Texting, implied Broganes, implied shallura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:05:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleCherry108/pseuds/AppleCherry108
Summary: “The panda!” Keith yells, pointing an accusing finger.“Panda?” The stranger squawks indignantly.“The panda!” Keith growls again, getting right up in the guy’s face. “Some asshole little red thing ran through my yard and lured my dog away!”Or,After Keith's beloved dog runs off, he begrudgingly accepts help from a cute stranger.





	Miss Scarlet: In the Foyer; With a Leash

**Author's Note:**

> This entire thing is a result of me going "I think Keith is a dog person" because Lance is all excitable high energy like a dog, so therefore Lance is a cat person because Keith is definitely a cat lol.
> 
> And in case you didn't read the tags: again, no animals get hurt in this. Scared, sure. But not hurt.
> 
> Hope you like it! I sure as hell enjoyed writing it! :)

The air is cold and crisp, making every sharp inhale sting just a little. A powdery, thin layer of snow stubbornly clings to every surface. It’s a chilly morning in mid December, early enough in the day that the sun barely peaks above the shimmering rooftops, casting the world in a soft glow. It’s also decidedly the perfectly worst time of year for her to have run off.

“Baloo!” Keith calls into the eerily quiet street. He follows her name with a series of kisses that echo strangely back at him. “C’mon girl! Baloo!” Silence. Nothing but silence and what could be a wind chime somewhere in the distance. Keith’s chest constricts as his worry multiplies like a single-cell organism going to town on itself.

Baloo never runs off; she’s such a good girl. Sure she adores the cold weather and romping through the snow, but she  _never_  goes off on her own like this. Keith curses that  _thing_  for what feels like the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. His day started off like any other: he woke up, let Baloo out front to do her business, when suddenly  _something_  zipped through the yard. Now, to his credit, Keith was barely awake when it happened, and he definitely had not had his coffee yet, so if he says a  _red panda_  went streaking across his front lawn, you have to cut him a little slack. He knows it  _probably_  wasn’t a red panda—mostly because this is the suburbs and also they’re not indigenous to this continent—but it  _looked like a fucking red panda, okay?_ It was small, it was  _red_ , and whatever it had said in pandanese had been offensive enough for Baloo to go barreling after it barking madly at the damn thing.

Keith tries kissing loudly again, smacking his lips obnoxiously; still nothing. Alright, time for the Big Guns. He holds up the toy in his left hand and gives it a generous squeeze: the high-pitched squeak carries well, but doesn’t elicit a response, not even a far off  _boof_  of interest. Alright, now Keith was  _panicking_. If Mr. Lion couldn’t call her home, he didn’t know what could.

“Missy!” Keith glances over his shoulder to see someone cresting the hill on the other side of the street. The newcomer, like Keith, is not dressed for the weather. The guy at least has slippers and a heavy-looking robe on, which is more than Keith can say for himself. He had been so frantic to chase after Baloo that he’d left his house in nothing back his sweatpants.

The stranger seems to notice Keith staring. “Hey!” He runs towards Keith, one arm waving wildly and the other tightly clutching his robe closed like some scandalous housewife. “Hey, you! Frostbite!” Keith scowls at the name but doesn’t say anything about it, well aware of his state of undress; though if his exposed skin wasn't already pink from the nippy breeze, it definitely was after that backhanded nickname.

“Have you seen a cat run through here?” the stranger asks breathlessly. “There was a delivery guy and the second I opened my door my stupid cat ran out.”

Keith notes that this guy looks infinitely more worried than annoyed despite the  _‘stupid’_  qualifier. “No. Have you seen a dog? My Great Dane just, ran off.”

“I haven’t, no, sorry.” The stranger’s face falls. He hugs his robe closed tighter and shivers.

Keith can't help but feel sorry for him, being in the same situation himself. Empathy floods his already worried brain and he's blurting words without thinking. “Well… What does he look like? Maybe we could, I don’t know, look together? Two heads and all that.”

The stranger gives him a small, grateful smile. “ _Her_  name is Miss Scarlet. Y’know, like the character from Clue? She’s a Red Somali, and she’s like,  _red_  red. She’d be pretty hard to miss out here.” He gestures to the pale muted colors of the surrounding snow-covered houses.

Wait.

Red?

“The panda!” Keith yells, pointing an accusing finger. The gears in his brain click into place and the shift from overwhelmingly worried to  _absolutely pissed_  is instantaneous.

“Panda?” The stranger squawks indignantly, blinking between Keith’s finger and face.

“The panda!” Keith growls again, getting right up in the guy’s face. “Some asshole little red  _thing_  ran through my yard and lured my dog away!”

“ _Panda?_ ” he repeats again under his breath, face scrunched up, equal parts baffled and offended.

“It looked like a red panda, but obviously it wasn’t! It was your stupid asshole cat!”

The guy blinks away his confusion. “Wait.  _Wait._  Your  _dog_  chased my cat? Your  _Great Dane_  dog?!” He’s just as riled up as Keith now. “Your dumb brute of a giant dog chased my cat! I swear to god, if he so much as  _touches_  her—”

Oh bitch, he did  _not_  just say that. “Baloo wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Keith bellows. He gives the stranger a huge shove backwards. “She’s the nicest, friendliest, chillest dog in the fucking world! If your vicious-ass cat lays a single claw on her—”

The guy balks, mouth hanging open. “Missy might be an asshole, but she’s not a  _demon._  She’s just…impulsive!”

They stand there, glowering at each other, only inches apart and huffing furious puffs of warm, condensed air in the other’s face. After a long, tense moment, the stranger is the first to break.

“Ugh,  _whatever._ ” He leans away from Keith, crossing his arms tightly. “We’re still better off looking for them together. That way I can beat your ass the second I find her.

Keith scoffs. “Like you’d win that fight.” he mutters under his breath.

Another silence stretches between them before the guy let’s out an exasperated sigh. He reaches into the deep pocket of his robe and pulls out a small tin can. “Missy!” He calls, lifting the tab on the can and releasing it to click loudly back down. He repeats this several times.

Keith eyes him up and down. “What are you doing?”

The stranger shoots him a glare. “Calling my cat,  _obviously_.”

“No, I mean,” he points to the can, “what’re you doing with  _that?_ ”

The guy looks down at the can and flicks the tab again. “Uh, calling my cat?” When this answer also does not seem to satisfy Keith, he let’s out an amused huff. “She geeks so hard for wet food, you have no idea. Usually the sound of me opening a can has her running home in seconds.”

Keith can feel his brow crease in concern. “Does she run out a lot?”

The guy frowns. “Well…yeah. She’s sort of a free spirit, y’know?” He offers Keith a lopsided smile that looks and feels half-hearted. “She usually doesn’t go further than the bushes by the porch, though. Dumb cat,” he laughs softly, “too reckless to stay inside, too scared to actually explore.”

Keith watches as his gaze seems to go unfocused, staring off at nothing. He’s still absently playing with the can tab. Keith chews the inside of his cheek, searching for something to say. He might still be mad about the whole thing, but it's not really anyone's fault. Cats and dogs fight, it's just what they do. Still, Keith knows all too well what must be going through this guy's head right now. “She…must’ve been pretty spooked, huh?” he offers softly.

The guy still looks lost in thought but a small smile curls his lips. “Yeah… She startled the delivery guy and made him drop all his boxes. I’ve never seen her take off so fast, tail all bushed up…”

Keith bites his lip and hesitantly reaches out to him. He places a hand on the guy’s shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “We’ll find her.”

The stranger finally brings his eyes back up to meet Keith’s; he gives Keith a genuine, grateful smile. “Yeah. Definitely.” He straightens up and slaps on an overconfident grin. “Of course we’ll find them! I mean, a bright-ass red cat and a behemoth of a dog? They should stick out like two sore thumbs!”

Keith can feel himself returning the smile.

They start back up the street, calling their respective pets’ names. Their rhythm is broken by the occasional squeaky toy noise and click of the can tab. After a few fruitless minutes, they wordlessly decide to swap names.

“Miss Scarlet! Missy? Here kitty, kitty, kitty!” Keith feels awkward. He knows how hesitant he sounds, but how are you supposed to call a cat, anyways? He didn’t even think you  _could_  call a cat.

“Blue?” The guy coos, voice way,  _way_  too high and babying. “C’mon, Blue! C’mon, girl!” He tries to imitate Keith’s kissy noises while patting his robed thighs with loud, soft thumps.

“Baloo.” Keith corrects.

“Huh?” The guy looks over at him.

Keith fights back a smile at his surprise. “Not Blue;  _Ba-_ loo. Jungle Book?”

His eyes narrow with confusion. “Like the…bear? Wasn’t that character a boy?”

Keith shrugs. “She’s big, she’s gray—they have a lot in common.” The guy snorts at that; Keith can’t help but grin. “So. Miss Scarlet, huh?”

The guy nods, humming a confirmation. “That kitten had murder in her eyes. You should’ve seen her back then, always skulking around like she had something to hide.” He turns a bright grin at Keith and dramatically flops one hand to his chest and the other to his forehead. “But she’s innocent, I swear! She didn’t do nuthin’, officer!” For whatever reason, he says it in a falsetto Southern accent; Keith burst out laughing anyway. The guy bites back a giggle himself. “Yeah, she’s… Hah, she’s grumpy. And stupid. Well, I mean, she’s actually a really smart cat, she just doesn’t…y’know. Think things through.” His bright smile melts into something worried again.

“Does she have a microchip?”

He shakes his head, another bittersweet smirk tugging at his mouth. “No. She hates the vet. Just getting her there for her annual check-ups is like pulling teeth. What about Baloo? Does she have a chip?”

Keith shakes his head. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Couldn’t afford a shirt either, huh?”

Keith bristles and crosses his arms over his bare chest. “I have shirts!” he defends hotly. The stranger just laughs at him. “I just… She  _never_  runs off. I wasn’t exactly thinking about my wardrobe when I chased after her.”

The guy hums at that. “Good thing you weren’t in the shower when she ran, ‘else you might be out here buck-ass naked.”

Ridiculous. “Maybe.” This guy is fucking ridiculous. “Probably.” But they’re both laughing. “I’m Keith, by the way.”

“Lance.” Keith offers his hand for a shake. Lance takes it but recoils almost instantly. “Jesus Christ, dude! How are you actually  _hot?_ ”

Keith withdraws his hand just as quickly. “How are you  _frozen?!_  You have, like, three layers on!”

They gawk at each other a moment before dissolving into another round of laughter. “And here I was gonna offer you my robe.” Lance muses.

“I would offer you my pants, but I’m sort of going commando right now.”

Lance splutters over an accosted squawk. “ _Dude._  TMI!” he laughs.

Keith shrugs. “Hey, you’re the one suggesting that I might be running around  _‘buck-ass naked.’_ ”

Lance snorts at that. “You got me there.”

This is nice. Keith decides he likes talking to Lance.

Before he can go anywhere else with that thought, a vicious yowl erupts from down the street ahead of them, echoing terribly through the still air. The scream is immediately followed a loud, pathetic yelp and high-pitched whimper. Keith and Lance exchange a panicked look of dread before taking off at a mad dash towards the commotion. Keith’s heart goes into overdrive, each anxious beat thumping painfully against his ribs. That was a dog crying, that was  _absolutely_  a dog crying and a cat in attack mode. Baloo is too sweet for this, too gentle. It doesn’t matter how big she is, she’d lose to a pissed off cat every time. Keith can feel the scowl stretching his face, his fury towards the cat—and by extension Lance—resurfacing.

They’re about three more houses down when a raggedy-looking Chihuahua comes galloping out from behind some trash bins. It runs headlong towards the street, colliding with a small plastic lawn ornament near the curb. It skids on a turn and flees, yelping the entire way until they can no longer see it. Keith recognizes the dog: its name is Rico and it…sort of has an owner? It roams this stretch of the neighborhood mostly, but he’s definitely seen one of the neighbors calling for it on occasion.

Keith also recognizes the rumbling blur of red that had chased Rico into the street. Miss Scarlet stands looming near the trash bins, still hissing and spitting, poofed out to her fullest volume. Once she’s satisfied that Rico isn’t coming back, she turns and darts back out of sight.

“There!” Keith dashes ahead of Lance, following the angry cat into the alley created by neighboring fences. He has to squeeze past the large trash bins and, in his hurry, isn’t sure if he knocked them over or if he might’ve shoved one into Lance. He doesn’t care. All his focus is on the bouncing red tail in front of him, but what he finds in the makeshift alley is more shocking than he ever could have imagined.

A poofy cat, fur a fiery shade of bright red, still grumbling low in its throat, stalks towards a curled up heap of dark gray: Baloo. Miss Scarlet climbs over Baloo’s gangly legs and tucks herself into the dog’s side, almost like she’d been sitting pretty just the same until a certain renegade Chihuahua had interrupted. Once she’s settled, Baloo leans over and laps messily at the cat’s fuzzy head until her growling melts into a loud purr.

“What the heck?” Lance comes to a halt next to Keith, panting sharply, eyes wide. “Missy!” The cat looks up at Lance and blinks slowly, unperturbed by his sudden appearance. Lance tries to take a step towards her but Baloo huffs loudly and covers the cat protectively with her large head. Keith chuckles.

“Come on, Baloo, don’t be like that.” Keith says gently, stepping towards the pair. Without moving, Baloo turns her big ole sad puppy eyes to Keith (to which he definitely does not coo lovingly at), and lets out another huff. Keith has to bite back another laugh.

Miss Scarlet watches them curiously, still purring away like a damn Harley Davidson. She trains her eyes to Keith as he takes another step towards them. She lets out a loud mewl and stands, rubbing her whole body against Baloo’s head as she saunters towards Keith. Keith freezes. He’s not really a cat person. Actually, he’s a bit terrified of them ever since he got scratched as a kid, so this fluffy ball of fire that was only moments ago ready to kill a Chihuahua does not instill Keith with much confidence.

The cat is upon him; Keith swallows over a lump in his throat. She circles his leg, unnaturally curling around it and rubbing her whole body against him like she had just done with Baloo. She lets out another loud cry and stands on her back feet, stretching up to paw at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

“Uh…” Keith says intelligently as the cat continues to stare up at him, still purring like a jet engine. He hesitantly reaches down and picks her up as best he can with a squeaky toy in one hand. She willingly lets herself be draped over his shoulder as Keith cradles her lower half against his chest. Her purring is ten times louder as she nuzzles into his hair happily.

“Holy shit.” Lance whispers. Keith looks back at him; he’s staring slack-jawed in disbelief. “Dude. She  _never_  gets friendly with strangers. Hell, she never gets friendly with  _anyone_  besides me. You’re like a, a cat whisperer or something!”

Keith can only shrug helplessly. He’s still a bit scared she’ll change her mind and start shredding him to ribbons, but when he lets his hand stroke gently down her back, she churls happily over her purrs and buries her nose against his neck. He can feel her front paws curling over his shoulder.

“Uhh… She’s massaging me?”

Lance stiffens and sucks in a breath. “Is she using her claws?”

“No…?”

Lance visibly relaxes, shoulders slouching then shaking with a quiet chuckle. “Wow, she  _really_  likes you then.” Lance comes forward, arms outstretched. “C’mon, little Miss. You had Daddy worried sick.” Miss Scarlet, still purring of course, looks back and watches Lance carefully. The second he’s about to touch her, she shimmies her way up Keith’s shoulder, forcing him to tilt forward so she won’t fall. She curls around his neck like a furry scarf.

Lance clutches his chest and squawks indignantly. “ _Et tu, Rojita?_ ” he rasps quietly.

Keith laughs, his shoulders bouncing Miss Scarlet a bit but she doesn’t seem to care. He reaches a hand up to give her scritches, which she gladly meets with a little headbutt. “Good, kitty.” he says smugly, smirking over at Lance. Lance can only hold his pout a moment longer before he succumbs to an amused grin.

Not one to be left out, Baloo comes up behind Lance and nearly knocks him down as she gently bumps the back of his knees. He stumbles forward with a surprised gasp. “Geez, she really is  _huge_.” He laughs and rubs her head perhaps a little too vigorously, but Baloo doesn’t seem to mind the extra rough attention; her mouth drops open, tongue rolling out as she pants happily.

“Who’s a good girl? You are! Aww, what a good girl!” He’s using that baby voice again. Keith rolls his eyes, and in the process notices Miss Scarlet looking none too impressed by her owner’s antics either. “Man, I can’t believe we actually found them  _together_.” He rubs all over Baloo’s considerably large body, checking for injuries. “Looks like Baloo’s okay.”

Keith stealthily disguises his own probing as more scritches. “Miss Scarlet’s good, too.”

Lance hums, rubbing Baloo’s face with both hands and making her jowls flop noisily. “That’s good.” He says it quietly, clearly distracted. “Wonder if they were looking out for each other.” He raises Baloo’s face towards his, turning the baby voice back on and dialing it up to eleven. “Were you protecting my stupid dumb cat? I bet you were! Oh you were! OhhOOhOhhh!” His words dissolve into mindless babbles as he continues to shower Baloo with affection, which she eagerly eats up; her panting turns to licking his face but, despite his exaggerated noises of disgust, it doesn't deter Lance from continuing the love.

Keith watches them; he coaxes the cat into the crook of his elbow, belly up. It  _is_  weird that they were together, right? Keith thought Baloo had chased after the red blur in a fit of rage but maybe... Keith hums and looks down at the fluff monster in his arms, her purrs reaching rocket launch levels of loud. Lance said she had only run off because she was scared. Could Baloo have sensed that? Is that why she went after her? Maybe Baloo was trying to protect Miss Scarlet until Lance could find her. And then Miss Scarlet had warded off Rico which, yeah, Baloo would lose to an angry Chiuhuahua too—she doesn't have an ounce of fight in her whole body.

They were looking out for each other, playing to their strengths to make up for the other's weakness. Baloo is the greatest comfort in the world, and Miss Scarlet would probably fight a bear if she had to.

They made quite the team.

"Well, Ole Baloo," Lance's voice pulls Keith out of his thoughts, "thank you for keeping my brat safe, but I think it's time we headed home." He gives Baloo one more pat on her head before standing up. "C'mon, little girl." Again, the second he reaches for his cat, she pulls away. Lance is far less amused this time. "Don't be like that! Keith doesn't want to take you home!"

"I really don't." Keith grumbles, trying his best to hand over the cat. Miss Scarlet finally brings her claws out, which is more painful than effective considering Keith doesn't have a shirt for her to grab on to. See, this is why he's not a cat person. She grumbles low in her throat with each light tug Lance makes at her.

A pathetic whining joins the nonsense as Baloo bumps her head into Lance's stomach. " _Oof_ , oh come on!" he exclaims as she pushes him a few paces backwards. Still not satisfied, she gets up on her hind legs and puts all her weight into him, successfully knocking Lance on his ass; she sits atop him, panting happily again. Lance groans. "I am  _not_  trading pets." he grumbles, sounding as winded as one would expect with 120 pounds of pupper sitting on his chest.

This is ridiculous.

"I live down on Oak. How 'bout you?" Keith asks, gingerly pulling Miss Scarlet's claws from his skin.

"Elm." Lance grunts, rolling out from under Baloo.

Keith hums. "We could walk back together. I'll carry Miss Scarlet."

Lance makes another over-exaggerated groan. "Sure," he sighs, "why not."

"Here," Keith shakes the stuffed lion at him, "take this." Lance squints at him. "It's, ugh," he does his best to toss the toy at him without dropping Miss Scarlet in the process. "That's her leash tied to it."

Lance makes a silent "o" of understanding and detangles the bright blue cord from the toy. He easily clips it to Baloo's collar and offers her the toy at the same time; she happily accepts it. "Alright, so how do we get back?" Lance says casually, pulling his phone from his robe pocket.

Before he can even unlock it, Keith just grins and says, "Home?"

Baloo immediately perks up and starts pulling Lance away. "Wha-huh?" he splutters, stumbling after her.

Keith follows them, chuckling to himself. "Baloo can find her way home from nearly anywhere. Do you know how many times I got lost walking her when I first moved to this suburban labyrinth?"

Lance laughs nervously, gently tugging at the leash, trying to get Baloo to slow down. "Yeah well, that's what Google's for, man."

"I have a flip phone."

Lance gapes at Keith, clutching his chest dramatically.

Keith just shrugs. "Can't afford a smart phone."

Lance splutters at that. "You know, you're not exactly convincing me that you  _actually own_  shirts."

"Shirts cost, like, four dollars."

Lance acts like that alone is a personal insult. He stops and whirls back so he can scold Keith, but doesn't factor in the very enthusiastic Great Dane he's still attached to; he ends up spinning around and then back again, nearly face planting on the sidewalk. " _Ugh,_  you're killing me, Smalls!"

Keith huffs. "You're  _maybe_  an inch taller than me!"

Lance's hand comes back to his chest. He makes a loud sob and tilts his head towards Baloo. "And he doesn't get my references, either! Madam, what have you been teaching him?!"

Baloo  _boofs_  softly at him; Lance nods in agreement.

Keith doesn't know what's happening, but is rightfully offended that his dog sides with Lance.

They come to a corner and Baloo starts to turn down the street. "Oak." Keith says, nodding to the sign above them. "This is us."

"Oh no no no no no." Lance chides, pulling Baloo back to him. He waggles a finger at Keith. "Unacceptable, nope! I'm not letting you off the hook that easy!" Keith trades a look with Miss Scarlet but follows Lance as he continues past his street. "No shirt, no shoes, no  _Google maps?_  Keith, buddy, you absolutely barbaric heathen—"

" _Lance._ "

"—at least let me make you some coffee for your troubles!" Lance looks over at Keith and waggles his eyebrows. "I have a  _Keurig_ , you know." he says with a devilish smile.

"I take my coffee black."

Lance groans and lets his head fall. "Of  _course_  you do."

They walk about two more blocks until they reach Elm Street and take a right. Despite the street names—Oak, Elm, Birch, Cherry—all the trees that line the sidewalks are maples, but some housing committee thirty years ago must've decided that  _Hollyhock Place_  sounded much nicer than "Another Identical Street In This Sprawling Clusterfuck Of Equally Identical Houses." At least when Keith lived in a city the streets were numbered. Navigating this bullshit is nigh impossible, so he's extra glad at least Baloo can find her way around.

Lance brings them up the covered porch of a sizeable two-story house. He fishes his keys out of his pocket— _shit_ , Keith suddenly realizes he didn't lock his own door—and leads them inside. "So this is my place, nothing special." He unclips Baloo from her leash and hands it to Keith; Baloo trots off down the hall. Miss Scarlet, realizing she's home, jumps away from Keith and follows Baloo into the kitchen.

Keith looks around. "So like, do you live with your parents?"

"What?!  _God_  no!" he splutters and turns bright red. Keith doesn't understand why that would be such a bad thing—wouldn't that save a lot of money? Though by the looks of it, Lance seems to be doing just fine. "Dude, I share this place with like,  _eight_  other people." He motions to a door leading off from the kitchen. "The dining room was converted to a bedroom, the living room too—there's four bedrooms upstairs, all with their own locks. Really it's just the kitchen and den we share." Keith looks behind them to see a small room with a few couch pieces and a large TV, separated from the kitchen only by a low half-wall; Baloo has also found the couches and is comfort-testing them with Miss Scarlet as they speak.

"I'm guessing that one's your room?" Keith asks, pointing to the door directly next to the stove; a small pet door has been installed in it.

"Yep!" Lance unlocks the door and pushes it open with a flourish. All things considered, it's not  _that_  small of a room, but it feels ungodly cramped. Lance has way more furniture than floor space, not that he really  _has_  a floor, what with it being covered in laundry, textbooks, and cat toys. What little of the walls aren't blocked my mirrors and wardrobes are covered in photos—mostly group pictures that either include Lance or a number of people that look suspiciously like him. And the lights. Lance has string lights hung around the room, draping and crisscrossing, obviously multiple strands judging by the mismatched colors and bulb sizes. All in all the room is chaotic but...cozy, too.

Keith gives a little hum and nod of approval as he takes it all in; Lance pulls open the top drawer of one of his  _three_  armoires. "I know it's not much, but it's all I can afford with my loans—and my college isn't too far from here. I go to Garrison Tech. What about you, do you do school?" He tosses a black shirt at Keith. Keith doesn't even fight it, he just pulls it over his head; it's a looser fit than any of his clothes and a lot softer too. Maybe he should reconsider his cheap wardrobe...

"I did, for a while. But then I uh..."

"Couldn't afford it?" Lance supplies with an understanding little smile. Keith nods. "Yeah I get that. I applied for a bunch of scholarships but those, uh, didn't exactly work out, so I took out a bunch of loans instead, and even then I'm getting help from my parents." Lance opens a wardrobe and pulls a pair of flipflops out, tossing them over to Keith. "Like I said, I live with  _eight other people_  so my rent is dirt cheap, and I'm guessing you moved to the 'burbs for the same reason." Keith nods, slipping his feet into the shoes that are at least two sizes too big for him. "I know GTI is technically  _close_ , but I'm stuck walking and taking the bus since I still don't have a car. It just, sucks, y'know? I have to wake up before  _sunrise_  just to get to class on time."

Keith shrugs. "I wake up before sunrise anyway. It's nice. Quiet."

Lance makes a noise somewhere between a scoff and a snort. "Why am I not surprised?" he muses lightly. He plucks two little plastic cups off a rack on a dresser and brushes past Keith to get into the kitchen. "You're a simple man, Keith. You like simple things." Keith rolls his eyes. "But! That won't stop me from dragging you kicking and screaming into the magical realm of  _treating yourself_." He flips up the lid of an appliance next to the microwave, pops one of the cups in, and flicks the lid back down; he grabs a mug off the cute little stack next to it, twirls it with a flourish, sets it down, and presses a button.

"Keurig?" Keith asks as a steady stream of coffee starts dribbling into the mug.

"Keurig." Lance says with a proud little nod.

Baloo reappears from within the den, Miss Scarlet trotting alongside her. She heels next to Keith and he automatically reaches out to pet her head. Miss Scarlet hops up onto the counter. Lance pushes her away from the coffee maker with an exasperated scoff. "Fine, fine, I know what you want." He reaches into his robe and pulls out the wet food can; Miss Scarlet meows—or more like  _screams—_ at him. Lance dumps the food into the empty bowl next to her water dish and she immediately starts devouring it like she hasn't seen food in a fortnight. "Can I get Baloo anything?" Lance asks, pulling the now full coffee mug away from the maker; he starts adding...Keith doesn't even know what, to it.

Keith considers the offer. "I think we're good." He looks down at his dog and watches as she rolls her tongue over her nose, nearly licking her eye.  _Adorable._  "Unless... Do you have any peanut butter?"

Lance beams at him.  _Also adorable._  "Sure do!"

Keith fights back a smile as Lance shuffles around the kitchen, grabbing a spoon and a jar from a high shelf. Baloo catches on quick; she shifts impatiently, slobbering over her face again with a loud smack. Lance's grin stretches wider, showing off his teeth and his very, very nice smile.

"Here you go, girl." He coos in that dumb baby voice that is definitely not growing on Keith. Baloo eagerly goes for the huge dollop of creamy peanuty goodness. Lance laughs as she takes the entire portion of peanut butter at once, her tongue darting out rhythmically.

"And for you, sir," Lance opens the fridge and tops off the coffee with whipped cream before handing it to Keith. "A blonde roast with a dash of cinnamon and a teaspoon of brown sugar."

"My teeth hurt just listening to that." Keith teases as he takes the mug. Lance pouts at him but keeps staring until Keith takes a sip. "It's... Not as bad as I expected." Lance sticks his tongue out and turns to make his own cup. "Still prefer it black, though." he says, taking another sip. Shit, it's actually really good.

Lance makes that amused yet playfully offended sound again. "Yeah well, I can guarantee you this'll wake you up faster than that dirt. Dark roasts hardly have any caffeine in them—the roasting process sucks it all out, so if that's what you're looking for—blonde roasts all the way, buddy."

Keith smiles into his drink. He's already feeling more awake now than when he had adrenaline pumping through his veins while panicking over Baloo. Lance was right, but Keith would never tell him that.

"So," Lance draws out the word, "what do you do? I mean, since you don't do school anymore."

Keith shrugs. "Work." he says simply, downing the remainder of his coffee and setting the mug on the counter.

Lance's eyes dart to the discarded mug; he bites his lip. "Right, right. Where do you work? If, you don't mind me asking?"

"Retail bullshit. They won't give me full time and finding a new job is a lot harder than I though it'd be, so I'm home with Baloo a lot." He starts unwinding Baloo's leash from around his wrist.

Lance stares at the leash. "Y-yeah, that sucks, dude. Retail's the worst." he stutters. Lance shifts his weight from one foot to the other and can't seem to decide what to do with his free hand. His eyebrows scrunch together as he takes a slow sip from his cup, not being subtle at all when his eyes keep darting back to Keith.

Why's he being so awkward all of a sudden? Did Keith say something wrong? All he did was take out Baloo's leash—

_Oh._

_He's trying to stall Keith._

Suddenly the leash in Keith's hands is very interesting. So interesting, in fact, that he must give it his full attention, or else Lance might see how wide his smile is or how pink his cheeks are.

Keith's heart hopscotches over a few beats. "Yeah, totally." Smooth, Keith. A true master of the art of conversation.

Baloo, the angel that she is, thankfully takes that moment to reappear at his side, having cleared her mouth of peanut butter. She sits expectantly in front of him. Nice save, girl.

"I should, uh,"  _Fuck, don't say it._  "I should get going."  _Dammit._  "Baloo hasn't, um, eaten, and I uh..." He hesitantly clips the leash to her collar. Fuck, fuck,  _fuck._  He meant to delay his departure, not speed it up. Goddammit, why do cute boys make him so flustered?

"Right, yeah, totally." Lance hurriedly sets his cup down and shuffles over to the front door. Keith and Baloo follow him. Lance waits until they've stepped past him to swing the door open. "Hey, uh, thanks again, for, you know, helping me find Missy." Said cat appears next to them, hopping up onto the bookshelf by the door. Baloo walks around both of them so she can properly sniff at the cat.

"You too, I mean—thanks, for helping me find Baloo. And for the coffee." Keith offers him a tentative smile; Lance gives him a bright grin in return.

"Anytime."

There's a heavy pause while Baloo finds something to sniff on the floor, pacing around the boys. Keith suddenly finds his courage.

"Hey, why don't I give you my number? In case you ever, uh, I mean, I could give you a ride to class sometime? S-so you don't have to wake up so early" Nice. Only stammered over the entire thing, good job.

Lance's smile turns goofy-giddy happy. "Really? That'd be great! You have a car?"

"A bike, actually." Keith says as Lance hands him his phone.

"Like a  _motocycle?_ " Keith nods and Lance let's out a little bark of disbelief. "So that's why you dropped out—you were  _literally too cool for school_."

Keith laughs as he hands the phone back. Lance smiles down at the new contact; instead of Keith's own name, he typed Baloo's. Lance looks back up at him, very obviously failing to keep from smiling any harder; likewise, Keith's cheeks were beginning to ache from his own similar failure.

"I should go." Keith says, not moving.

Lance bobs his head in a small nod. "I'll text you." he says, also not moving.

Baloo takes the opportunity to  _boof_  softly at them. They look down to see her holding part of her leash in her mouth; the rest of it she's managed to wrap around their legs. Oh.

Miss Scarlet chirps from her spot on the shelf, the only warning they have before she leaps down onto the portion of leash Baloo holds taut for her.  ** _Oh._**

The trap has been sprung. The force of the cat pulling the leash down tightens the entire length. Their knees buckle as they're forced together, suddenly finding themselves pressed chest-to-chest, noses only inches apart. Keith and Lance stare wide-eyed and red-faced at each other, both spluttering helplessly, unable get anything coherent out.

Lance is the first to find real words. " _MISSY!_ " He cries, voice high and strained. Keith hasn't figured out words yet, but he does reach down and unclip Baloo's leash from her collar; the cord goes slack and they're able to quickly back away from each other.

Miss Scarlet lets out a self-satisfied cry as she trots away, tail held high. Baloo just sits there, panting happily, looking back and forth between the two of them.

Keith, having successfully untangled the leash completely, fumbles his first attempt to relatch it onto Baloo's collar, but thankfully makes it on the second try. "Okay, so! We'll be going now!" he squeaks, pushing open the screen door and letting Baloo lead the way onto the porch.

"Good! Great! Catch ya' later!" comes Lance's equally high-strung voice. Keith notes that his face is as red as Miss Scarlet before Lance quickly shuts the door behind them. Keith stands on the porch a moment longer, staring at the closed door before shooting a glare at his dog.

" _Not cool._ " he hisses.

Baloo's  _bork_  is as delighted as her panting.

Keith sighs as he gives her leash a little tug and starts towards home. "I don't need need a wingman, I was doing  _just fine, thank you._ "

Baloo glances up at him with a huff that very much says  _"keep telling yourself that."_

Keith groans and picks up the pace, practically jogging his way back home.

They reach the split-level house quicker than he expects. To Keith's utter dismay, he finds he did, in fact, run out without locking the front door. "Coran's gonna kill me." he mutters as they step inside, at least making sure to lock the door behind him. Coran is his...roommate? Keith's brother's girlfriend's weird uncle let's him crash at his house. He doesn't pay rent but he does all the cleaning and repairs—basically anything Coran needs or wants done. In exchange, Keith gets the whole lower level to himself while Coran occupies the upstairs. His brother says Coran is doing it as a favor to his niece, but Keith knows the old man loves Baloo and doesn't want  _her_  to go cold, hungry, or homeless. Keith just happens to be a package deal with his dog.

Keith unclips Baloo and lets her run off to find her food dish while he shuffles down to his room. He immediately flops down face-first onto his bed, suddenly extremely exhausted despite it being—he glances at his alarm clock—9:03 in the morning, and having a stomach full of caffeine-rich coffee.

Today has been long and  _surreal,_  and it isn't even lunch yet. First his dog uncharacteristically runs away, but he gets her back no worse for wear. Then a  _cat_  of all things practically falls in love with him. And then  _Lance..._

Keith makes a noise into his mattress; he can feel his face start to heat up just thinking about the gangly cat owner. Keith rolls onto his back, stretching his arms behind his head and staring up at the bland stucco ceiling. Okay, so  _what about_  Lance? Maybe Keith was reading things wrong, it wouldn't be the first time. Maybe all those smiles and stolen glances don't mean what Keith wants— _thinks_  they might mean. Maybe Lance is afraid of dogs and Baloo made him nervous. Maybe he's just a polite guy, offering coffee and peanut butter to a stranger.

And a shirt. And shoes...

Keith looks down at the borrowed black shirt. He hadn't exactly studied it before putting it on, but now that he's looking he can see that it's covered in red cat hair, hair that's practically woven into the soft fabric. Keith realizes he'll need to return the shirt. And the flipflops. He wonders if Lance had thought about that when he'd thrown them at Keith.

The bed dips as Baloo jumps up next to him, circling a few times before plopping down at his side and resting her head on his stomach. Keith instinctively reaches out to scratch behind her ear. "What do you think, girl? Do I have a shot?" Baloo gives him what he can only describe as a deadpan look like she's exasperated with him. Continued scratching melts the judgmental look off her, though.

A muffled buzz draws his attention. Keith reaches back and blindly gropes under his pillow for his forgotten phone. He flips it open and has to bite back a smile: three new texts from an unknown number.

 

**08:58AM: ok so maybe missy isnt as innocent as i thought**

 

The next message is a picture of Miss Scarlet curled around Mr. Lion—Baloo's favorite squeaky toy. Keith laughs, looking over his phone at his dog. "Did you do that on purpose?" Baloo covers her eyes with a paw. Keith grins over another chuckle.

 

**09:07AM: want me to deliver the hostage? id feel bad making u come all the way back here**

 

Keith bites his lip, the idea of seeing Lance again way more exciting than it should be. He's about to type a reply when his phone buzzes with another new text.

 

**09:09AM: i dont have class today. wanna do lunch? itd be cool to talk without the kids interrupting.**

 

The noise Keith makes is entirely unflattering and actually startles Baloo. He rushes out a reply and hits send before Lance can try to backtrack on the offer.

 

**09:09AM: its a date ;)**

 

Keith holds his breath, staring at his phone, anxious for a reply. The minutes stretch by and Keith starts to worry that he really  _had_  misread everything. Shit, shit,  _shit._  Does he say he was just kidding? Does he send a "no homo"? No, not possible. Keith is very homo, so that would be a lie. Fuck, shit, maybe Lance is straight?  _Fuck!_  Okay, okay okay, stop panicking. How can he dig himself out of this hole—

His phone buzzes several times in quick succession, startling him and making him nearly drop it. He presses the  _read_  button a little too hard.

 

**09:14AM: :) :) :) :)**  
**09:14AM: awesome!**  
**09:14AM: cool**  
**09:14AM: we can meet at my place around 12?**  
**09:15AM: or when do u like to eat?**  
**09:15AM: we can meet earlier**  
**09:15AM: or later!**  
**09:15AM: sorry  
** **09:15AM: im just really excited**

 

Baloo huffs at him as Keith kicks his legs in a fit of pure joy, letting out another delighted squeal, and disrupting her very comfortable position. "Sorry, girl." He reaches out and scrubs her head the way she likes. "I'm just..." he glances back to the last text, smile stretching his already aching cheeks, " _really_  excited."


End file.
